


The one where Jack doesn't grow up completely, or much at all

by knightinpinkunderwear



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Age Changes, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Background Destiel, Canon Temporary Character Death, Canon-Typical Violence, Child Abuse, Cussing, Dean is slightly better than canon s13, Don't copy to another site, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Jack Feels, Jack-Centric, John Winchester's A+ Parenting, Not Canon Compliant, POV Sam Winchester, Sam Winchester Feels, Sam Winchester is Jack Kline's Parent, Sam Winchester-centric, Self-Harm, Suicidal Thoughts, jack calls cas "Dad", jack is actually a kid, jody and donna and the girls are breifly a part of this, so is cas and dean
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-31
Updated: 2021-01-31
Packaged: 2021-03-11 05:33:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,750
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28466115
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/knightinpinkunderwear/pseuds/knightinpinkunderwear
Summary: Sam just wanted Jack to be safe and happy and get a chance to grow up. And wow, he had almost forgotten how much he wanted this, to have a family, a kid.____What if Jack in the seconds after his birth could only age himself up to be a toddler instead of a young adult?
Relationships: Castiel & Jack Kline, Castiel & Jack Kline & Dean Winchester & Sam Winchester, Jack Kline & Sam Winchester
Comments: 8
Kudos: 51





	The one where Jack doesn't grow up completely, or much at all

**Author's Note:**

> Mostly Sam and his feeling about little Jack and looking after him. Destiel hinted.

Cas is probably dead, Mom is gone, and there was a woman birthing the antichrist. 

Cas is most likely dead. Mom was stuck in some apocalyptic alternate world with Lucifer himself. And there was some poor woman giving birth to the literal, biblical antichrist.

Oh. The antichrist was already born. And it wasn't a baby. It was a shape in the shadows with glowing eyes. (Not a very big shape at that).

Then Dean was there, his gun out and ready.

Sam didn't get the chance to stop Dean, only push the gun up and away as it fired towards the small shape with glowing eyes. 

The shape (a little boy with blondish hair) screamed and he and Dean were both being held up in the air by waves of glowing energy. It wasn't like a ghost or witch or demon's hold either. Those were quick. Those didn't keep you in the air before tossing you. They generally skipped straight to the slamming you into the nearest wall. He had enough time to give Dean a confused look before he was thrown into the aforementioned wall. 

He woke up with a headache but compared to every other headache in his life it was almost nothing. 

He tended to Kelly's body, (she was definitely dead) and Dean disappeared down the stairs.

When he came down the stairs Dean came to meet him, walking from what had to be the dining room.

"Can he fly?" Dean asked as they got back outside, Cas's truck was still there, but given that it seemed Lucifer’s son was only about the size of a small child (though, who's to say how long that would last?) it made sense. 

"What?" Sam asked. 

"Does the son of Satan have wings?" 

"I don't know," he shrugged.

"Do we still have holy oil?"

"Dean, what are you going to do?" 

"It's a monster, Sam," Dean said, pulling the door open and getting in. Sam followed suit. 

Dean started the Impala and pulled onto the road, heading towards town.

"Well?" Sam asked.

"Well what?"

"What are you going to do?"

" _We_ are gonna kill that thing," Dean answered.

"Dean-!" if he had been driving he would have swerved them off the road and into a tree.

"It tried to kill us! And in case you forgot, Kelly is dead, Crowley is dead, Mom’s as good as dead, and Cas-" Dean's voice broke. 

"Is he...?" Sam asked, trying to be gentle with his tone, now concerned. Dean had always been closer to Cas, even if the angel had been a friend to both of them, he and Dean had just always... 

"You know he is," Dean bit out. Sam quieted. Cas was really dead then. The realization is heavy. It had been so long since Cas was really gone. Since Cas wasn't a part of their lives.

Sam's fingers twitched, itching to turn on the radio, to fill the silence but music wouldn't help anything. If he wanted anything to get resolved, they'd have to talk about it, and he really wasn't looking forward to it, because Dean acted like he was allergic to conversation when he was like this.

"Maybe Jack only lashed out because you shot at him," Sam started, and sighed when his brother did nothing, "Maybe Jack killed Kelly, but I don't think it was on purpose," Sam didn't want to think that the kid had wanted to hurt them, even if he was the son of Lucifer, he was still a newborn. And there had to be a chance that he wasn't born evil, especially since Kelly and Cas thought that he would be good.

Dean rolled his eyes.

"Mothers dying from childbirth happens even if the baby is human! Besides the lore in the Bunker suggests that mothers of Nephilim are more likely to have complications during pregnancy and birth!" 

"When did you read that?" Dean asked, incredulous.

"When we found out Cas was going to protect Kelly and that Kelly wanted to keep it!" He shouted back, "Cas made his decision!"

"No, the antichrist brainwashed him and Kelly both!"

"He was a fœtus then, Dean!"

"It was evil then, it's evil now!" 

"Really, Dean? Thats the argument you're going with?? _Evil fœtus!?"_ Sam wanted to know what the hell was going through Dean's head. Because it wasn't like they hadn't lost Cas before. Hell, Cas died like a Winchester brother; frequently and it usually didn't stick for longer than a few months.

"Are you defending the son of satan?"

"Dean! I'm not- whatever, I'm just saying- you know what? Yeah, maybe I am! You saw him, Dean, he was a kid! And he deserves a chance,"

"Does he?" Dean asked with that stupid smart-ass tone that made Sam want to hit him.

"We let that other demonic kid go,"

Dean kept his eyes on the road. Sam could see his jaw clenching and almost hear how his teeth were grinding. 

They didn't drive far before they found him. 

He was walking along the road on little wobbly legs. Walking the way that toddlers did, pushing their front foot into the ground a little too hard and pulling the back foot up a little too quickly. He hadn't figured out how to really walk yet. 

Sam is out of the impala before Dean even stops. 

The kid ran and Sam ran after him, off the road into the trees. Sam had to weave and duck, having a much harder time getting through the brush than the less than a day old but somehow still the size of a toddler Jack. 

Jack didn't have much in the way of physical grace though and the poor kid tripped and tumbled into a bush. Sam winced, thinking of all the splinters and cuts and scrapes the poor kid would have by now. Because no matter what Dean said, Jack was a kid. 

The kid scrambled about, turning and pushing himself further back into the bush. When his eyes aren't glowing, they were blue. And he actually looked a lot like his mom and even a little like Cas. Which might have been the kid's choice, since neither Kelly nor the guy Lucifer was possessing had light hair or blue eyes. (Maybe Kelly was blond when she was younger?)

"Jack? I'm Sam, do you remember me?" 

Jack stared, not answering. 

"Sam!" Dean called from back on the road, maybe fifty or so feet away.

"He tried hurt me!" 

"I know, I'm not going to let him do it again, you're safe," Jack followed his words and Sam had to wonder, "Jack, how are you talking, how are we talking right now?" 

"Mommy taught me." 

"Before you were born you mean? You remember her?" Sam knew that Nephilim weren't like normal human kids and Jack had somehow aged himself but if Jack remembered stuff from before he was born... how far back had he been conscious? When had he developed consciousness and awareness? 

"I _was_ her," Jack answered with a slow sort of confusion like he was trying to describe something beyond words. Which would be pretty understandable at this point. "She said it was dangerous and I would-en be safe a baby," 

"Then why not grow up all the way? Like into an adult?" Sam asked, ignoring the little mistakes in grammar Jack was making. He wasn't even a day old, it was practically a miracle he already knew English so well. 

"My power 's new, _I'm new,_ I dunno how," Jack said, crossing his ankles and hugging his knees to his chest. He blinked, eyes widening like he'd just remembered something, "I gotta find my Dad. He's protect me, Mommy said." He let go of his knees shifting his weight forward so that he was sitting on them instead, leaning with his hands in the dirt by his feet. 

"Protecting isn't really what Lucifer does," 

"That not my dad. My dad's name Castiel," the kid frowned, tilting his little head. And Sam was lost caught back by how much he really _did_ look like Cas. 

Then Sam registered what Jack said. And blinked. He hadn't seen that coming. Jack thought Cas was his father? 

"What?" 

"Mommy said it's not safe, I need Castiel protect me, so I chosed Castiel be my dad," the tiny, naked boy sitting in a bush said as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. 

Sam blinked again. With Dean acting the way he had been, there was no chance that Cas was still around. And the poor kid was looking for him. He wasn't a day old and both of his 'parents' were dead. 

"Where Castiel?" Jack asked with a frown and a furrowed brow.

"He's dead," he spoke as softly as he could, trying to be gentle with the news. Which tugged something painfully in his chest, Cas was a friend. And here he was trying to break the news to a kid who hadn't even met the angel and- Jack's face went slack.

"Like Mommy?" he asked in such a quiet whisper that Sam almost didn't catch it. 

"Yeah," Sam answered, thinking of Kelly, "I'm sorry." 

Jack's lip was wobbling and his eyes tearing up. And Sam knew he was just a kid, a scared, naked kid, who thought he might be alone in the world. Sam knew how most of that felt and he wasn't going to let Dean hurt him, he wasn't going to let Jack go on alone. 

"Here," he said, pulling off his jacket and the flannel underneath, "You need some clothes," 

Jack crawled forward on his hands and knees out of the bush to crouch like Sam was. Sam draped his red flannel around the kid. 

"You put your arm through this hole here and your other arm in the other one," Jack followed the instructions with a confused face. Sam buttoned up the front so that it wouldn't fall off. The shirt was trying its best to slip from the boy's narrow shoulders.

Jack was so much smaller than Sam, it looked like if he stood the flannel would cover down to his knees. He then took each of Jack's arms one at a time to bunch and roll up the sleeves as much as he could. 

Jack looked at his little hands as if he'd forgotten he'd had them. And Sam wondered just how much object permanence the kid could have, given that he was barely 8 _hours_ old. Then the tears started falling. Jack was crying.

"I'm alone," and if Sam had any doubt that he was going to take this kid/infant/nephil/whatever in they were gone now. 

"No Jack, you're not alone," Sam wrapped his arms around the boy, gently pulling him close. "I promise." 

Jack pushed his face into Sam's shirt, grabbing ahold of it with a white-knuckled grip. Pushing himself into the hug so much that Sam could feel his little nose flattening against his stomach and tears wetting his shirt. He was almost worried that Jack might smother himself. 

"There you are!" Dean called, and both Sam and the poor, crying boy (infant!) in his arms stiffened.

"Don't hurt him, Dean," Sam said, holding Jack tighter, and letting the boy push his tiny crying face harder against his chest. Anything to let the poor boy feel better, feel safer. He needed comfort and Sam knew what that was like, and he was going to do all he could to make sure Jack got that comfort.

He didn't really remember how, but he managed to get Jack back to the impala without setting off Dean and even getting as much of a promise that Dean wouldn't hurt Jack, yet. And Sam hated that "yet". He hated that Dean had said it in the first place and he hated _how_ Dean had said it.

Sam kept promising Jack he wouldn't let Dean hurt him. And hoped that the boy believed him. And hoped that Dean wouldn't make that into a promise unkept.

He sat in the backseat for the first time in a long time, not wanting to leave Jack alone.

"We need to get him some real clothes, if you don't want us to look like kidnappers," Sam said, keeping his arm around the newborn-toddler, Jack leaned into his side and Sam held the seat belt out of the way so that it didn't choke him. They'd need to get a booster seat too. But he could wait until Dean chilled out a little bit before mentioning that. 

"And where do you suggest I do that?"

"I think there's a k-mart up the road," he suggested. 

"And you'll go in and grab some matching superman pajamas for you guys?" Dean asked, bitter and sarcastic, and making himself to be the biggest ass he possibly could be. 

"I'm not leaving you alone with him, Dean," Sam spoke in the most level and measured tone that he could, well aware he was giving his brother a 'bitch-face'. He didn't --he _couldn't_ \-- trust Dean not to try to hurt Jack. Whether or not the nephil was a monster, he was still a kid and he still deserved a childhood and a life. 

"Fine," Dean bit out, "You keep bonding with Lucifer jr." 

It was both a good thing and maybe also a terrible thing that Jack didn't talk around Dean. Good because anything the poor boy could say would rile Dean up in some way. Terrible because Sam was awfully sure that Jack stayed quiet because he was terrified of Dean. And based on the way Dean had been acting... Jack had every right and reason to be. 

Dean called Jack evil and a monster a few more times, and the more he said it the less Sam believed it. (Not that he ever really had...)

And when Dean disappeared into the K-mart Sam hugged Jack and reassured him that he was not a monster and that Dean was just being mean because Cas was dead and he cared about Cas a lot. Which led to him explaining how Dean didn't like to grieve or hurt and so he lashed out and got angry when he was hurting. Which then led to an explanation of how getting angry when you're hurting doesn't help anything and can just hurt more people.

By the time Dean came back out toting three or so outfits of different sizes, Jack had forgotten he was upset in the first place.

Dean had to force his scowl when Jack stared at the clothes with confusion.

All of the outfits were too big, so Sam helped Jack get dressed in the smallest, best fitting one. (And pull-ups because both he and Dean were pretty sure that even though Jack was not a normal newborn, he was likely not potty-trained).

A blue shirt and a matching green/grey set of sweat pants and a zip-up hoodie with elephants on them.

("What's that?" "That's an elephant, Jack.")

Even with clothes of his own, clothes that fit better, Jack didn't want to let go of the red flannel shirt. Sam couldn't blame him for it either, it was a physical reminder of Sam's promise, both not to hurt him and not to leave him alone against the world.

Not to mention it was soft, and there was a reason little kids went around carrying blankets. This was kind of like that. Especially the way that Jack hugged it against his chest and chin.

They stopped at a drive-thru on the way back for breakfast. (On Sam's insistence, he knew Dean wouldn't eat without prompting, not while Cas's body was still at the cabin).

"Who's that?" Jack asked, perked up and pointing out the window, to the menu and sign. Or probably the life-size pirate statue.

"That's Pirate Pete," Dean said.

"What?" Sam responded, incredulous on instinct. 

"This is Pirate Pete's Jolly Treats," Dean explained as if he has a right or reason to be annoyed that Sam even asked him. Sam rolled his eyes.

"Can I say hi Pete?"

"Sure," Sam found himself saying. 

"Hi Pete!" Jack chirped, holding his little hand up but not actually waving it. 

"Welcome to Pirate Pete's Jolly Treats, what can I get you?" A tired and probably teenage voice asked.

"Three hashbrowns, whatever kids breakfast thing you have, and two rise and shine sandwiches," Dean responded, not even pretending to let them request anything or look at the menu. Sam hated it, it made him feel like he was 7 again, Dean ordering whatever he thought would be healthiest and most filling for him with a couple of crumpled bills.

"Why Pete no move when he talk?" Jack asked, tugging at Sam's sleeve with one hand while he held the flannel with the other.

"Pete's not real," Sam said at the same time as his brother said, "Magic."

Sam leaned over so that Dean could see him glaring at him from the rearview mirror. Dean ignored it. Jack's gaze was now glued out the window to the magic Pirate Pete, waiting for more magic to happen. It was pretty cute, and Sam could see that Dean saw that too.

A drunk woman stumbled out of the restaurant, holding stiletto heels over her shoulder and walking barefoot. Sam shot her a concerned glance and Jack stared at her.

"They look..." the boy said, pointing at the woman in question, who sent them a piercing glare.

"She's just drunk, Jack," Sam assured him.

"Don't point and stare, it's rude." Sam blinked. He didn't think Dean was going to giving lessons about being nice, talking to Jack like he was just another kid that had annoyed him. But that didn't last. Or change a damn thing about Dean's opinion of the kid, it seemed.

Even when Jack's eyes went wide and he giggled delightedly after only a bite of his food to declare; "I like hashbrown!"

Though Sam thought he might have seen Dean swallow a little too forcefully or purposefully clench his jaw, like part of him wanted to smile. It quickly turned back into a grimace when the lights and the engine flickered out.

Then Jack was screaming. He'd dropped his sandwich and had his hands over his ears and his eyes clenched shut.

Dean swerved.

"Make it stop!" Jack wailed. Sam placed his hands on the kid's shoulders.

"What's happening, Jack? Make what stop?" he asked, leaning down and trying to get the nephil to look at him.

"The voices! They angry!" the little boy shouted.

And then it was over and Jack was sniffling and shaking. Dean drove faster and Sam picked up the dropped food and stuffed it into the paper bag it came in. He found his flannel on the floor and picked it up to hand to Jack, who hugged it tightly. It was quiet besides Jack's sniffling and loud shaky breaths.

" _Voices?"_ Dean asked, pointedly.

"I don't know," Sam breathed, rubbing Jack's arm in a way he hoped was reassuring.

Dean swallowed, "Do you think, maybe the kid's picking up on angel radio?" he suggested, "I mean Lucifer is technically an angel so..."

"Yeah, that makes sense," Sam admitted, worried at both the reaction and how it seemed that Jack wasn't paying them any attention, and maybe wasn't even aware that they were talking about him.

The cabin wasn't empty when they returned.

Angels. 

They tried to get Jack.

Sam would've helped Dean but he was busy trying to keep Jack safe from the angels. (Which was a lot harder than just straight-up fighting them, as he was holding a screaming and crying toddler). 

The last one (the drunk woman they saw earlier) had managed to throw her angel blade, and while Sam had tried to turn and duck out of the way it was all for nothing. 

Jack stopped his sobbing to gasp. 

The blade had gone straight past his arm and into his side. It had probably punctured a lung and Sam had only a second to fret. 

Then Jack moved his arm and pulled the knife from his side, quietly. Sam stared at the boy's little, bloody hands. 

He wasn't dead. The angel blade did nothing to him. The wound closed back up as if nothing happened. 

Then Jack started crying again, fisting his little bloody hands into Sam's shirt and whining about how it had hurt between sobs. 

Sam gave his brother a look, Dean seemed just as confused and shocked as he was. Jack was probably much more powerful than they thought. And Dean's plans to kill the nephil had certainly been complicated (besides the fact that Sam would be sabotaging them). 

Dean wanted to do Cas's funeral prep by himself. Sam didn't want to argue with him, it was probably better this way. Cas and his brother had a 'more profound bond' by the admission of the angel himself. And Sam couldn't help if he was making sure Jack was alright. 

So he helped the boy into a new shirt and jacket (and got a new shirt for himself as well). (He didn't want either of them walking around with Jack's blood on their clothes). 

Jack found the burned wings (Cas's wings) on the ground. And touched each feather that was seared into the earth. 

"Castiel?" 

"Yeah, that's where it happened," Sam answered, "he was protecting us, and you too," 

"He promise he protect me. Mommy said," Jack frowned, standing now and still looking at the wings.

"He kept his promise," Sam said, hoping that the boy would take some comfort in it, and even if he didn't now, maybe he would when he was older. 

"I wish he not dead," Jack whispered, Sam leaned down and took his hand, giving it a comforting squeeze. 

"Me too." 

"He's a kid! Guys, he deserves a chance!" Sam was getting sick of this argument. There didn't need to be an argument. No matter who his parents were Jack was first and foremost a newborn who looked like a toddler. It wasn't like he was killing or hurting anyone.

"As much as I'd like to argue nature vs nurture I think we do have to address that his father is the biblical devil and if he takes after a parent-"

"He could be good! Like Cas, like his Mom!" 

"What about Castiel?" Donatello asked, confused. 

"That's my Dad," Jack chirped, interrupting. Then, in a smaller voice; "He dead like Mommy," 

Dean refused to look at Jack and Donatello looked even more confused. 

"Would Mr. Rogers hurt a kid?" Sam asked icily, "Or would he try his best to give that kid a chance?" 

Donatello turned to Dean; "Your brother has a point," 

Dean looked awful, some mix of sad and hurt and still angry.

Sam booked him and Jack a separate room and let Donatello and Dean share the first one. 

Jack slept, hugging the flannel from before like his own teddy bear and drooling into his own elbow. He looked like any other sleeping kid. And Sam couldn't help but make sure the questionable quality motel covers were tucked around him comfortably. 

The next day the demons had tried to get Jack. Jack, who was naive and followed them and was tricked by some shapeshifting demon up until the point that the demon tried to hurt them when they'd finally caught up. Sam remembered feeling his insides with and twist in unnatural pain, like what that bastard Zachariah used to do. 

Then Jack had screamed and the demon who resembled Colonel Sanders collapsed. (The demon's name was Amadeus or something, but Sam did not care).

"Those my friends!" and then it looked like Jack had half exorcised the demon on instinct. The longer-haired Colonel Sanders Demon retreated, obviously wounded. Jack rushed over to them, only to fall gratefully into Sam's arms crying and screaming about how he didn't know. _He didn't know._ He just wanted to be good like his parents.

And that... that sentiment was killing Sam. The kid was so much like him. He couldn't push him away, he wanted to make sure Jack got the support from adults that he hadn't. 

Donatello left shortly after that. Dean seethed. And they drove back to Kansas, Sam sat in the back the whole way, holding Jack, who slept and cried most of the way. (And puked once).

They got back to the bunker, thankfully safe from other angels and demons. (But Sam still took a light-colored sharpie and drew wardings and sigils onto the six-sided of Jack's shirts, to keep demons away, to make him untraceable, to prevent possession. 

Sam was not going to take a chance. 

What he didn't think to do was ward the boy against himself.

Sam had never moved so fast in his life, he was sure. He couldn't breathe, but somehow he got the scissors out of Jack's little hands. As he watched, the slashes and cuts in the boy's skin (bloody and red) closed up, leaving smooth skin through the holes in his shirt. Physical wounds completely healed.

"Jack? Why did you do that?" he asked with a strained voice. He was barely holding together, and he hoped Jack couldn't tell how close he was to just pulling the kid close and _crying._

"What am I?"

"You're a nephil, your mom was a human and your father is an archangel,"

"Lucy-fur?"

"Yeah, Lucifer,"

"He's bad. So Jack is bad too,"

"No! You're a kid Jack, you can be good, like Kelly," Sam pleaded.

"Like Mommy? And Castiel?"

"Yes, like your Mom and Cas," he nodded, placing the scissors behind him on the table, far enough from the edge that Jack couldn't reach them again without climbing onto a chair.

"I miss them," he said sadly.

"I know you do, and Jack, please don't hurt yourself, you scared me,"

"I didn' want scare Sam!" the toddler shouted, stricken, then quietly he continued, "I'm bad for scaring Sam?" with such a small and fearful voice that Sam could feel his heart breaking. He lifted a hand to Jack's shoulders and leaned close, letting the boy lean in as well, in a loose hug. That was Jack didn't feel like he was being squished or forced into the embrace.

"No, Jack, you're not bad, I wasn't scared _of_ you, I was scared because you were hurting," Sam explained, trying to keep the pain from his voice, he didn't want Jack to think he was lying or think that he was making him hurt. Jack tucked his head under Sam's chin, trying to wrap his little arms around Sam's torso (and Sam hoped that he'd get to look after Jack until he could reach all the way around when they hugged and touch his fingers together, he wanted to make sure Jack was safe and happy until after he was all grown-up). (And wow, he'd almost forgotten how much he'd wanted a family, wanted kids).

Jack pulled back, standing on his own and looking up at him with inquisitive blue eyes.

"You... don't want me hurting me?" Jack asked slowly. And Sam hated that Jack even needed to ask that.

"Yeah, I don't want you to hurt yourself, and I know that your Mom and Cas wouldn't want you to hurt yourself either," Sam spoke with a waiver in his voice, he'd never had to talk someone out of hurting themself besides Dean or one of the other hunters they knew, he'd never had to do this for a kid and his head and heart is screaming at the wrongness of it. Because JAck is a kid and he wanted to hurt himself and that is the worst thing that could ever happen.

"Okay," the nephil nodded.

"Jack, can you promise me that you won't hurt yourself again?" Sam asked, not knowing what he would do if Jack refused, or if he didn't answer. He needed to know that Jack wouldn't do this again.

"I promise; I be good," the boy said and Sam pulled him into another hug. Hoping that he would feel relieved, to have Jack safe and unharmed in his arms. But instead, his traitorous mind whispered; _for how long?  
_

"He's five days old and suicidal Dean! You're not just acting like Dad, you're worse!"

Dean looked stricken like Sam had never said something as hurtful as he did just then. And Sam knew that the way John had treated his older brother was different than the mistrust and neglect he'd been dealt. He'd been too young and too busy trying to escape what John was doing to him to see the full extent of what had been happening to Dean, now though, now he was starting to get more of the whole picture.

"You know I'm not trying to be-" Dean cut himself off, rubbing his face, "I'm not trying to be Dad, I don't want to be him, but- maybe you can look at the kid and trust him but I just- Cas trusted the kid and it got him dead. And I _can't_ -!"

"Jack wasn't even born! Cas decided he wanted to protect _a baby_ and died facing _Lucifer_! He knew what he was doing! Fuck, Dean!" he took a deep breath, "Yeah, Cas is dead! But Jack is a kid! And you're too damn old to take this out on him! To take this out on _anyone_!"

"I'm sorry, Sammy,"

"Don't apologize, just- work on it!" he huffed out a breath, "I know, you were closer to Cas, and we'll keep looking for ways to get him back, this isn't the first time we've lost him,"

"What if we can't get him back?" Dean interrupted, "How am I supposed to look at the kid he _died_ for? What if the kid turns bad? What if Cas died for nothing?!" there were tears in Dean's eyes and his voice was breaking. Sam wanted to be more sympathetic but-

"He was protecting Jack, but he was protecting us too, no matter what happens, his death means something, because he's _family_."

"It still feels like he died for nothing." Dean walked out of the kitchen, down the hall towards his bedroom. His voice echoing flatly.

Sam sighed, he should probably give Dean some space, and putting space between Jack and Dean seemed like more and more of a good idea. Space helped people grieve, right?

So Dean took a trip to South Dakota, visited Donna and Jody and the girls. Called in when he got there.

Sam took that time to drive to the nearest store with supplies for young children. Step-stools so Jack could reach the sink without being picked up. Kid-size toilet seats, booster seats, two car seats, and a night-light. And a lot of new utensils and dishes. 

Jack loved the sippy-cups with handles and they came in sets of four, each a different color. Sam watered down the apple juice because there was no reason he should give Jack that much sugar, and was happy to find Jack liked to drink water more than he did juice.

He bought a few toys, and a bunch of books for Jack. (Because Jack had seen Sam researching and wanted to help but couldn't read). Sam found himself tutoring Jack through the alphabet and the sounds each letter could make.

Jack was absolutely enamored those applesauce vacuum-sealed pouch things. Every time he got to eat one he watched with wonder and anticipation as Sam twisted the top off to open it. He always chirped a quick 'Thank you!' with an innocent grin. (Jack had a gap in his front teeth and it was front and center when the boy smiled or grinned, and it was really cute). And every day Sam found himself smiling more and more.

Even when Jack got the hiccups and accidentally cut out the power both because of the noise and the fact he couldn't control them was scary. (Sam then explained what hiccups were and why they happened.)

Every night, without fail, Jack would ask Sam to stay with him until he fell asleep. And quite a few of those nights Sam had a small half-human crawling into his bed in the middle of the night because of a nightmare. (And Sam didn't have the heart to refuse the request).

Jack snored and drooled when he slept and it was not as gross as Sam would have thought. Because Jack was a kid, and because every day he felt more and more like _his_ kid.

When Dean came back he was better. He seemed less like John and more like Dean. But he was still a far cry from really being himself. He seemed... empty. Angry and hurt all the time.

But he was working on the anger thing. And the lashing out thing. Now, he made sure the worst he did was storm out of a room, no hitting the walls or shouting where Sam or Jack could hear.

He even apologized to Jack. (Not that Jack really understood what was going on). Dean had also made a lot of changes in an effort to include Jack in his life more. 

He rolled his eyes but installed the car seat into the back of the impala with only vague complaints that had nothing to do with Jack specifically. (He even got a spill-proof cover to put over the seat and under the car seat to protect the leather from toddler accidents.

Jack was still a bit scared and wary of Dean, and Dean is just as apprehensive. Except instead of Dean thinking Jack might hurt them, he seemed scared 'cause he might hurt Jack, or not be able to make up for the past few weeks of distrust and anger and general mistreatment. It was a welcome change and Sam couldn't wait for the dynamic to heal into something positive.

It was both worrisome and funny to watch Dean and Jack start to bond. On the one hand, Sam was still worried about Jack getting some bad ideas from Dean (like that he was bad or a monster or something). But funny because Dean seemed to be trying not to like Jack as much as he did.

Because Dean was always good with kids, he'd always liked kids. Probably because he'd all but raised Sam himself. (And it was crazy that it took Sam until half-way through law school to realize everything Dean did for him was not a normal big brother thing).

Dean's trying to not get as attached to Jack was a catastrophic failure, that much was proven the first night Jack had one of Dean's homemade burgers (a really small one). Jack had started humming and nodding his head excitedly as soon as he took the first bite. Then Dean had all but melted like the big sap he pretended he wasn't.

It hurt that there was still a bitter, sad edge to his melting. Like he was thinking about Cas. (Burgers had been one of Castiel's favorite human foods).

The next morning Dean tried to play off the fact that Jack's breakfast looked like a smiley-face on his plate as a coincidence and that it wasn't his idea to put child locks on the cabinets at four in the morning. And two days later he tried to pretend that he didn't stand outside the door when Sam read Jack the same bedtime story about pigs joining the circus three times before the boy finally fell asleep.

Sam got many an opportunity to give Dean smug looks, from how when he returned from a grocery run with fruit cups and carrot sticks, to finding him installing a series of night lights throughout the bunker hallways.

After a few weeks, it wasn't a bad idea to leave Dean and Jack alone. Well, it wasn't a threat against Jack's safety or well-being. It was, however, a threat against Sam because Dean decided to tell Jack every embarrassing story he could think of from when they were kids. Like the time he'd come back to the motel with craft singles and bologna slices in his pants. Or the girl he had a crush on when he was twelve and how he'd gotten gum stuck in his hair. Or how he had an imaginary friend with rainbow suspenders.

Jack became the only other person allowed to call him Sammy. (Which was as good as calling Jack a Winchester, because he was definitely family at that point).

And Jack stopped being afraid of Dean (and Dean had long since stopped giving him reasons to be afraid of the eldest Winchester). (Even though he was still distant and Sam could see that he still blamed Jack for Cas being gone). And Sam could see how much Jack resembling Cas made Dean sad and angry.

But when he was angry now he left, drove, made sure he wasn't around Jack. And despite Sam's assurances, Jack still thought Dean was upset because of him. (Then Sam would hold him and tell him over and over again that it's not his fault, he isn't bad, Dean still cares about him, he's just sad and confused and hurting.) It was a hell of a lot better than it used to be, but it still had a long way to go, and Sam could see how much his brother was really trying.

Then, one night Dean came back from a gas run with more than he left with. And that more wasn't booze or take-out or anything that would make sense to find at a gas station convenience store.

It was Cas. 

A living, breathing _Cas_. Sam knew he must look like a dumb fish, with his mouth open and wide eyes, hardly blinking. It was Cas. He was there, alive, well, back home.

Sam looked to Jack, they were sitting on the floor with his oversized legos (building frogs, because Jack was obsessed with them). The yellow piece that sat in the toddler's hand was all but forgotten.

Jack didn't move, didn't blink, didn't breathe, for the longest moment he was just _still_. And given how young Jack was and how energetic he usually was, it was worrying.

"Hello, Jack," Cas said, his face both softer and sadder than Sam remembered ever seeing it. Though Dean probably had seen him like that, Cas was always giving him those earnest looks and uncomfortably long stares. 

"Castiel?" Jack asked in a whisper, his eyes filling with fat, shiny tears.

Cas smiled, "It's me." As soon as he said it Jack was on his feet and barreling his way on tiny legs like a shooting star, bright and fast and colliding with Cas.

Then Castiel crouched down and scooped the little nephil into his arms, Jack pressed his face into the crook of his shoulder, one hand clinging to the collar of Cas's trench coat, the other still had the lego piece in it. Sam stood up, looking from Cas to Dean.

"I looked for you, Dad, but you were dead," Jack sniffled, and Sam smiled, and he saw Dean start to bleed back into himself, not the pseudo-John hard-ass he'd become since Cas's death. 

"I know, I'm sorry Jack," Cas apologized, holding him close with such gentleness, it was as if he wasn't quite solid. 

"Don't be sorry, you protect me now," Jack mumbled with purpose. 

"Of course," Cas nodded, running a hand through the boy's hair, half petting and half cradling his head. Sam couldn't stop smiling, their family was coming back, it was filling in the missing pieces, now all they needed was Mom safe.

Jack and Cas made up for lost time, and by that, it meant the toddler/infant spent every moment he could somehow in contact with his 'dad'. Whether it be holding Cas's hand and following him about or climbing into the angel's arms. He sat in Cas's lap while eating in the kitchen, while drawing in the library, while Cas helped him read his beginner books. 

Jack held Cas's hand and dragged him back and forth about the Bunker to show him whatever mundane thing caught Jack's eye.

Dean apologized again. He finally started to seem like himself and like he wasn't guilty every time he smiled. Like he wasn't an echo of himself.

Dean smiled more and it was nice to see.

Sam had to order more chairs to put into Jack's room. Especially since Cas didn't sleep and could and would probably just spend all night sitting in Jack's room watching over him as he slept. And Dean couldn't keep reading bedtime stories from the extra table chair they'd dragged in there. Sam still got to read bedtime stories too.

But it made sense that Jack would want Cas, who he'd missed for months to read to him every night for a while. And Sam couldn't blame the boy either, especially because Cas had a remarkably soothing voice and Sam sometimes found himself dozing off as Cas read The Little Mouse, the Red Ripe Strawberry, and the Big Hungry Bear. (But Sam wasn't the only one, Jack was out before the last page, and Dean was doing that soft look he did when he wasn't pretending.) (Dean was being more openly soft now, and it was good to see). 

Cas bought Jack a talking teddy bear 'Marvelous Marvin' or something, and [fuzzy bee slippers](https://www.amazon.com/Fluffy-Slippers-Little-11-Yellow/dp/B078MN4XTY/ref=sr_1_8?dchild=1&keywords=bee+slippers&qid=1612059537&sr=8-8) that Sam had to admit were pretty cute. Dean got the kid some plaid and mini-jeans (but made of a denim blend not straight up denim for flexibility, as Jack was still in pull-ups). 

Sam had sat down one night to get Jack in the bath only to be joined by Cas and then Dean. This was an error on all of their parts. Because now, Jack outright refused any bath-time that didn't include all three of them. Because 'Sammy know water temper-chur and use the nice soap' and 'Dean do the voices!' (for the bath toys they'd gotten him) and Cas had to be there because he 'had to'.

So, every Monday, Wednesday, Friday, and Saturday the little family unit (team free will and Jack) piled into the bathroom with chairs and bath toys and 'nice soap' to get their little nephil clean before bed. Jack loved being wrapped in a warm towel after bath almost as much as he liked playing in the bubbles. He loved being picked up and getting help stepping into his pull-ups (because he was too busy clutching the towel around himself). He loved being tucked in.

Jack loved the airplane spoon game and would make wooshing noises with his goldfish crackers, pretending they were flying before clumsily getting them into his mouth with hand-eye coordination that was just a bit off. Jack liked to dress up like miniatures of them, which Dean was very supportive of, buying the boy flannel ("Sammy, look! I match! Look, it's soft!") and Cas was easily convinced to get him a matching trench coat and blue tie.

But that didn't mean that Jack didn't like dressing like a normal toddler, with Tigger and Sesame Street clothing sets and the unicorn hoodie he'd seen on Sam's computer that neither he nor Dean and especially not Cas could possibly refuse him with the puppy eyes and genuine enthusiasm.

There was a lot more use of laptops for tv and general stuff to help raise Jack than for finding hunts.

The Wiggles (Jack worrying about if it was mean that Jeff's friends would dump water on him to wake him up), Blue's Clues, Sesame Street (Jack giggling at the Cookie Monster, and saying that they talked like Bert and Ernie, which made both Dean and Cas stop and blush in a way that Sam felt very smug about), and Curious George.

It had been a few weeks since Cas came back when they decided to take a trip, a hunt for the adults (making sure at least one of them was with Jack at all times) that would double as a trip to visit Jody and Donna, who had been getting spammed with photos of Jack from all of them but mostly Cas (even though he'd only just gotten Donna and Jody's cell numbers from Dean in the past eight days). (Apparently, before then, he'd just been sending them to Claire for her to distribute).

It was much less awkward than the last time he and Dean visited Jody (thank God--Chuck-- for the lack of birth control and sex talks).

There was no question as to whether Jody and Donna would like Jack. (And Jack loved getting cooed over). There were a few cussing slip-ups, and Claire made a few snarky remarks that Dean barely refrained from snarking right back at, but it was good. (And huh, Sam hadn't realized that Jody and Cas and Donna and Cas never met in person before... weird).

Alex embarrassed her sister by spilling about her crush on a girl in class. Patience, the newest girl in the home was nice.

Jack loved everyone and insisted on telling them just that. (And no one could resist a smile at that).

Sam had a feeling that whatever was coming, with their family, with Jack was only just beginning, but after everything they'd been through at this point, he was confident that they'd be able to make it through alright. They'd already stopped who knows how many different apocalypses, hunted things their dad had never heard of, and made friends they'd never thought they'd make. And maybe even if Sam was a hunter now, he didn't feel like he wanted to get out of it much anymore, because now it wasn't a death sentence, or a lonely string of credit card fraud, pool-hustling, and shifty motel rooms.

Now he had a family that was more than just his brother. Now _they_ had a family, friends. The world was crazy, but their friends, their family, it was a hell of a lot crazier and Sam was ready to keep living and enjoying life. (Because it _was_ enjoyable, and they weren't just surviving anymore).

His brother was working through his shit, Cas was officially family, and Jack was their son. And life was looking like it could be pretty good actually. Sam smiled as he went to bed, Jack clutching the flannel from the first day they'd met and his teddy bear, drooling on the pillow. He could really get used to this. 

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you liked this! I am soft and this is not the only kid or baby Jack thing I have in the works!  
> Please leave a comment so I know what you think!


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